How long does it take to write a novel?
On my pathologically private post a few days ago, a commenter asked: How long does it take you to write a novel?
My response was: That’s a loaded question because it all depends on how much I actually write during my writing time! My plan for novel #3 is about 10 months, although Buried By Debt took 14 months. The Demise of the Soccer Moms took almost six years, but that’s another story.
Despite the fact that I spend hours a month analyzing this question as I record my constantly evolving writing schedule in spreadsheets and look for ways to streamline the process (thereby eliminating a smidgen of the re-write frustration), the question kept me thinking over night and gripped my mind during my morning walk today. I finally decided blogging about it was the only way to sort through my thoughts. So get ready for a brain dump, in danger of running as long as a short short story, but I’ll try to use some self-restraint.
I analyze this to death because I maintain one spreadsheet for my overall writing schedule, marketing activities, to-do list etc., as well as a spreadsheet for each novel and novella. I know that’s neurotic in the extreme, but it helps. It really does. I can see 30-60 days at a glance, I can track my word count, see the total against the target, and adjust. For me, it’s the only way to keep a steady commitment.
I’m a firm believer in “butt in chair” as a key component of being a writer. It’s not all Muses and flow. It’s also writing shitty first drafts and murdering your darlings. It’s remembering that diamonds come out of unremarkable rock formations and mushrooms grow in … I guess they grow in the shitty first draft. (Although Anne Lamott coined the term, “shitty first draft”, it comes from Hemmingway’s comment that the first draft is always “shit”.) It’s tedious things like tracking word counts or page counts and editing the same passage seven times and reading out loud to catch all the rough spots. By tracking my word counts, constantly analyzing whether I’m on or off track, I get the indescribable thrill of watching the gradual, steady emergence of completed stories, novellas, and novels.
There are three factors that contribute to the length of time required to write a novel: Fear. Typing Speed. Simmering.
Fear. I believe “writer’s block” (which I don’t actually believe in) is fear. I believe tweeting and surfing and napping and eating and house cleaning and temper tantrums and moping – the things that hinder my daily writing goals – are all rooted in fear. In fact, my obsessive spreadsheet tracking has also been known to hinder my actual writing.
For me, it’s the fear of not writing well. I know how to write. I know all the tricks to get the words flowing when I hit a pause: free write, bring a fox into the scene, ask what the character is thinking right now, writing the most ridiculous thing imaginable, etc. But it’s hard to do those things because the result may be poor writing. They might be flat, boring, trite, and a host of other things that terrify me. And poor writing has to be re-written, and poor writing stirs up the inner critic who then introduces further pauses. The only way I know to combat this is to push through. Keep writing crap. For me, that’s all that works. But I fail to do what I know. Every. Single. Day.
So fear introduces more time into the “writing of a novel” because there is so much writing not happening. My first published novel, The Demise of the Soccer Moms, took almost six years. Was I writing that novel every day for six years? Absolutely not. In fact I wrote two other novels during those six years. I was derailed by fear and critique groups and a lack of confidence (fear) in my voice. I’ve gotten past a lot of that. I don’t think it will ever take me “six years” to write a novel again. But never say never.
Still, that fear of not meeting my vision for a novel slows the process. The more my confidence in my voice grows, the less time it takes to write because … surprise, I’m actually writing when I sit down to write!
Typing Speed. Yes, I think this plays into it. Thanks to my parents, I took a touch-typing class in high school, for which I’m eternally grateful. I’ve spent most of my years in my day job on a keyboard … typing hundreds of emails a week, creating marketing slides, editing white papers [yes, I have repetitive stress damage and have to wear nylon hand support fingerless gloves -- they're black, very gothic looking 
]. I type very fast, and when I’m in the flow, I can easily write 500 words in fifteen minutes. That means I can set a goal of 2000 words or approximately 5-7 pages for every one-hour writing session. How-Ever … I’m not always in the flow, and if I set that as my target, I’ll have constant spreadsheet anxiety. My goal is 1500 words an hour. I frequently miss that, but I often achieve it, and a bit more.
I write for two hours a day on weekdays and more on the weekends. That’s over a million words a year. (Although my editing process is slower.) So theoretically, I could write five drafts of two novels every year. My ultimate goal is to write two novels a year. I’m not there yet, see: Fear.
The beauty of NaNoWriMo is that it addresses both Fear and Typing Speed. It forces you to write fast, push through the resistance and focus on hitting a word count. This process helps turn off the inner critic and the result is a nice garden of mushrooms.
I wrote my second published novel, Buried By Debt, during NaNoWriMo 2009. I wrote more than the requisite 50,000 words and ended up with about 2/3 of a novel. It took me FOUR months to write the final 30,000 words of the first draft. Then, in thinking of a title that had a bit more punch than the working title – Debt – I got an idea for a new direction and had to toss about 75% of the novel for the second draft. Ultimately, that novel took me about fourteen months.
Simmering. My next novel will be The Suburban Abyss. The idea for the novel came to me last summer. I have two characters vaguely sketched and the ghost of a third (not a real ghost[!] just a shadow of a character who has yet to emerge).
Today on my walk, as I do every Saturday, I passed the construction site that will be part of the setting. I saw a sign that read – Neighborhood Disturbance Manager – and provided a phone number and email address. I’m a sucker for jobs that sound, well, fluffy. I start wondering what that person’s salary is, what they actually do. This NDM will most likely appear in the novel.
So do I count my photographs of the construction site, my half-formed characters, and my Neighborhood Disturbance Manager as time spent “writing my novel”? Not really. I don’t plan to start writing this novel until December 26. But there’s lots going on. (Notice the mushrooms simmering in the pot! Maybe the Neighborhood Disturbance Manager is one of them, maybe not.)
As I’ve blogged about before, I use my walks to work out writing problems. The Muse comes with me, and there have been times when I haven’t gone two blocks before she whispers in my ear and plot point or character inconsistency that’s plagued me for days works itself out. The more I’ve developed writing habits, the more I’m taking advantage of this phenomenon. I pose writing questions to myself when I’m blow drying my hair or watering my plants. Basically I’ve learned to better use this simmering time so that I can “control” it to some extent, which reduces the amount of “time it takes to write a novel”.
I plan to publish The Suburban Abyss in October 2012. That’s a little over ten months of actual writing, re-writing, and editing. But I’m not “counting” all that simmering and note taking.
I’ve learned that part of becoming a writer is learning my own process, and the more I write, the more that process is refined and the less “time” it takes to write a novel. I’m now more aware, as I’m writing, when the story is dragging, when I’m “telling not showing” and all those other little things that can require significant rewrites. Eventually I’ll write a novel in two days. After all, if I type 70 words a minute and work twelve hours a day, I could write a novel in a weekend. Right?!! 70×60 minutes = 4200 words x 12 hours = 50,400 words x 2 days = 100,800 words. (Just kidding.)
I’m sure the comment on my post wasn’t looking for this vomit of the brain, but here it is. It takes me between six months and six years to write a novel.
If you’re a fiction writer, how long does it take you to write a novel? Or is that a loaded question?
This year, the holiday dash was intensified by my plan to release the third novella in the Madison Keith series. There I was, on Christmas Eve, exhausted, but relieved to see my “holiday-themed” novella make it into the holiday at the 11th hour, a few hours before my parents and neighbor arrived for dinner.
considered abandoning the novel I was working on at the time — The Demise of the Soccer Moms, so obsessed that I dragged my husband on a half-day research trip a few weeks later. Because the novel would be set in the late 1800s (well, I have to do more research, either late 1800s or early 1900s), I finally got a grip and shoved it aside. After all, I write contemporary fiction. When the setting came to mind from time to time, I’d remind myself that it wasn’t Suburban Noir. Recently, one of the characters resurfaced with greater intensity and it occurred to me that perhaps it does fit. If it doesn’t fit, I’ll make it fit, dammit! (Thus a search of Wikipedia for the origin of suburbia.)
There are several theories about the Blue Lady, but the one that’s been repeated most often tells the story of a beautiful young woman in the early 1930s. She fell in love with the man who played the piano in The Distillery’s bar. The young woman, always dressed in blue, was already married. Some say her husband was prone to violence and one night he tracked her down.
I decided I’d return home with only 11 stones (my lucky number). It turns out I have 16, but maybe overcoming my compulsive collecting for a few days will lead to overcoming my obsession with lucky numbers.
